


Lambs

by bgd_thrifty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:57:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgd_thrifty/pseuds/bgd_thrifty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In times of unrest, a scapegoat is needed to placate the masses. Harry Potter, hunted werewolf, is not willing to be that sacrifice and Draco Malfoy is learning that 'walking the walk' might affect him more than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lambs

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The hunt](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/9643) by skriftlig. 



> Thanks so much to melusinahp for beta'ing this for me. Her insight really helped smooth out the rough edges on this fic. Any mistakes left are mine and are due to my overwhelming urge to last-minute-edit. This fic may be slightly dark, but I don't think it angsty.

> In the aftermath of the Second War against He Who Must Not Be Named, it could reasonably have been expected that this was the last time the Wizarding World would have to suffer for some decades. This was not the case. The werewolves, dangerous magical creatures that aligned themselves with the Dark Lord, ran amok and caused devastation within innocent families trying to rebuild their lives.
> 
> The mission statement of the Werewolf Absolutory and Neutralisation Department, an amalgamation of the Werewolf Capture Unit, Werewolf Registry and Werewolf Support Services, is _to provide a point of contact for the infected and their relatives in order to aid them in becoming functional members of society._ These werewolves are not dangerous except at the full moon. For those who make themselves known to the correct authorities, steps can be made to integrate them and absolve them of wrongdoings they may have committed.
> 
> Some infected, through fear and propaganda, have become too afraid to seek the aid of the Department. Some may even become violent and beyond the reach of our highly qualified liaisons. It is with great regret that the Department neutralises these particular werewolves.  
> Please enable the Ministry to keep our country safe in these times of uncertainty. Report any suspicious activity to your nearest WAND liaison.
> 
> Natasha Vladimirovna Volkova  
> (Head of the Werewolf Location and Capture Division of WAND)

  
  
\+ + +  
  
“Fuck _off_ , Potter. The way you think you know everything is infuriating.”  
  
“What I do know, Malfoy, is that Greyback is loose, he’s been spotted in the area, and he’s coming after everyone he has a problem with. You’re on that list.”  
  
“So are you, but I don’t see you running off with your tail between your legs like you’re asking me to.”   
  
Potter rolls his eyes. “I’m an Auror, Malfoy. I can protect myself. You, on the other hand…”   
  
Draco bristles. “Go on, say it! I’m a useless layabout pureblood with not a skill to his name and a wand that barely works.”   
  
Potter smirks, and that certainly isn’t something Draco remembers from school. It looks horrible and misplaced on Potter’s pedestrian features. “Your words, not mine.” Seeing that he isn’t getting anywhere, Potter sighs. “Look, it’s for your own good. Stay there until we’ve caught him –”  
  
“Thoroughly inconveniencing me!”  
  
“Stay there and I’ll make sure some of the items of value removed from the Manor are returned.” If Potter thinks _that_ is going to persuade Draco, he is sorely fucking deluded.  
  
“Oh thank you, gracious saviour. I’m so pleased that you might deign to give me back some of the trash you stole from the Manor. What about the dark heirlooms? Each one is worth more than the entire contents of your vault.” There is an awkward pause. “No? I didn’t think so.”   
  
Potter runs a hand through his hair, and were Draco the type to care about over-worked Gryffindors, he might have felt sympathy for the man expected to revolutionise the Ministry. He isn’t.   
  
“Malfoy –”   
  
Draco holds up a hand and is quietly surprised when it actually stops the gobby Auror speaking. “No, I’m not having any of this. I’m going home where I will be protected and served by my house-elves.” Granger hasn’t had much luck so far with having the blighters freed, thank goodness. “And you can carry on being a speccy busybody. Bye, Potter.”  
  
He turns on his heel, Disapparating. In the split second before he leaves, he sees Potter put a weary hand to his brow. Draco scoffs. What does he care if Potter is stressed? Poor ickle darling of the Ministry. Perhaps someone didn’t polish his shoes the way he liked them this morning.  
  
\+ + +  
  


> Werewolf Registry  
> (Last updated 20.06.02)  
>  _Please note – this list contains records from before the amalgamation of the depts. – DM  
>  approx. 98 infected Feral (F). 12 (Unknown). 114 Dead (D). 61 Silvered (S)._
> 
> **RESTRICTED** – may cause significant distress to individuals, adversely affect the effectiveness of military operations, or compromise law enforcement.  
>  Abercrombie, Euan (S)  
> Aubrey, Bertram (D)  
> …  
> Brown, Lavender (D)  
> Bagman, Otto (D)  
> Barbary, Heathcote (D)  
> …  
> Lupin, Remus (D)  
> Lupin, Teddy (F - Unknown)  
> Weasley, Bill (F - Romania)
> 
> **SECRET** – may be life-threatening, disruptive to public order or detrimental to diplomatic relations with friendly nations.
> 
> Belby, Marcus (D)  
> …  
> Potter, Harry (F - Unknown)  
> …  
> Skeeter, Rita (F – British Isles)

  
…  
  
\+ + +  
  
The door bounces against the frame of his office.  
  
“Malfoy, are you mad?” Potter – of course it’s Potter – storms in, spittle flecking at the corners of his mouth as he spews out vitriol. Draco, despite his turning stomach, doesn’t react.  
  
“I must be if I’m letting you attack me in my own office.” Potter’s shoving his face right into Draco’s. Draco can see the bloodshot eyes that indicate many sleepless nights.  
  
“You’ve joined the most despicable organisation in the whole Ministry. Congratulations.” Draco doesn’t know how Potter can say this with a straight face as long as the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office exists.   
  
“They offered good pay,” he says, smiling viciously.   
  
Potter is shocked into silence. He slams the palms of his hands down against the table. That must smart. “Your cousin is a werewolf, you know!”   
  
Draco scoffs. He does _not_ acknowledge that side of the family. “I don’t have any infected relatives.”   
  
Potter has a twisted grimace on his face and he looks as though it pains him to continue speaking. “No? Who’s Teddy Lupin then?”   
  
Teddy Lupin is the bastard child of a half-blood and a werewolf. He should have been _smothered._  
  
“Fucked if I know, Potter.”   
  
\+ + +  
  
When Draco wakes, his first reaction is panic. He bolts upright, panicking like a wild animal at the sheets twisting around his legs. They ensnare him, and Draco can feel the magic rising under his skin, ready to burst out of him to set him free.  
  
“Hush, Mr Malfoy. You’re making quite a racket.” A Mediwitch has appeared from nowhere while he was busy fighting the linen. She is holding a bottle that Draco instantly recognises as Calming Draught.  
  
“Before I take that,” Draco says, swallowing against a dry throat. “What happened? All I remember is…” Werewolf? Werewolves. He’d been monitoring activity in Brixton. Black dots at a certain location. Every month without fail. Draco had known that it was Auror jurisdiction, but he hadn’t cared. Knowing that Potter was on the case was enough to get his back up and for him to go relatively unprepared to the high-activity area. The Aurors had come anyway. They’d had to when Draco found himself surrounded by slavering beasts, his only protection the shield charm he was struggling to keep up.  
  
“You were very lucky, Mr Malfoy. While you were injured, you were not bitten or scratched by any of the werewolves. It’s really a shame, though –”  
  
“That is enough. I will inform Malfoy of what came to pass.” The interruption is just as well. What’s a shame? His still being alive? Draco, even in his disorientated state, can feel the sneer stretching his mouth.  
  
Draco would recognise the voice that spoke anywhere: Natasha Volkova, head of the department he’s just joined. He’s just a paper-pusher, really. Filing; looking at patterns of activity. But he’d been trying to move up and Volkova had offered him the chance to do one case by himself. He’d messed it all up, hadn’t he?  
  
She sits primly in the chair by the side of his bed. Her hair is scraped back severely, and she reminds Draco of a younger him, although she is much older.  
  
“Mr Potter took the bite intended for you.” Draco pales, but Natasha continues. “This does not matter. You are a beginner; you will make mistakes. No one is expendable, not even the Boy-Who-Lived.” The tone of her voice indicates the level of her disdain for this title. “The Auror Department is in a… tizzy, but WAND knows what we will do.” A dull thudding begins to build in Draco’s ears and he can hear faint ringing.  
  
“Potter has not responded to any of our letters or Floo calls. Although he knows of the protocol regarding such situations, he seems unwilling to co-operate. From now, we treat him as we treat any other wolf. We hunt him.” She smiles at him, a smile that does not reach her eyes although her teeth are bared. Her canines are sharp and gleaming white. Draco smiles tentatively back; his clammy hands convulse once around the blankets they are clutching before stilling.  
  
\+ + +  
  


> **Recommended Actions Against Werewolves** – A Ministry-Sponsored Public Service Announcement for the Readers of the _Daily Prophet_
> 
> Primarily, for safety:  
>  **KEEP FAR AWAY  
>  DO NOT RUN**  
> STAY CALM  
> BE CONFIDENT  
> SEND A PATRONUS TO YOUR LOCAL LIAISON  
> DO NOT WAVE YOUR ARMS ABOUT  
> DO NOT STARE  
> DO NOT PROVOKE
> 
> In the event of attack, the Ministry allows the use of lethal force in self-preservation:  
> ASSUME FOETAL POSITION  
> USE MINISTRY-APPROVED SPELLS (see _Capture of Werewolves, ver. 2.4, Appendix 3.12.a_ ) TO SECURE TARGET  
>  **IF BITTEN** , CONTACT THE WLC IMMEDIATELY
> 
> Werewolves are dangerous and not to be confronted unless absolutely necessary. All violent werewolves are to be reported, including details of their location at the time of attack and their possible identities. All violent werewolves will be captured in a humane manner for the safety of themselves and those around them.
> 
> Thank you for your co-operation in this enduring time of uncertainty.
> 
> _Werewolf Location and Capture Division  
>  Werewolf Absolutory and Neutralisation Department  
> Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures_

  
  
\+ + +  
  
“Harry, you have to leave the country.”  
  
“I _can’t_ , Hermione! I can’t just up and leave. What about all the people that don’t have that luxury?” Hermione is wringing her hands and Harry can see the beginnings of tears in her eyes. He hates hurting her, but he sees no other option.  
  
“For once, can’t you just think of yourself? They’re flushing you all out, you know. One by one. Bill knows it’s not safe. He and Fleur have gone to stay with Charlie.” It is as if a light bulb has gone off in her head. “You could stay with them! They certainly won’t mind –”  
  
“Hermione. I’m not leaving Teddy. He’s safe in Grimmauld Place with Andromeda, but they need someone nearby who understands what they’re going through.” Hermione slumps down on the sofa they are sharing. To Harry, the fire they are sitting in front of gives off no warmth.  
  
“I still don’t understand what happened there.”   
  
Harry chokes out a laugh. “No one does. One full moon he’s normal, the next he’s completely wolfed out. I can’t leave Andromeda to deal with that by herself. Not with Tonks and Ted and Lupin gone.” They think it’s something to do with the Metamorphmagus abilities. They also don’t know for sure, and Harry thinks the information wouldn’t really help anyone anyway. The only sound for a moment is the crackle of the flames.  
  
“What about the Wolfsbane?” Hermione asks carefully. There are so many wolves now, and so few people that can brew the potion. The purchasing happens in back alleys and dark corners for fear of arousing WAND’s suspicion. The Department pretends that they are helping people like Harry, but he has seen too many people’s lives ruined to fall for that. Wizards hate werewolves. So it always has been and so it always will be.   
  
“Damocles Belby’s still missing, and he’s taken his werewolf nephew with him. Aurors haven’t found him. WAND haven’t either.” Belby had personally brewed Harry’s own potion. Sometimes Harry felt guilty that he didn’t need to risk discovery when so many others went without Wolfsbane’s calming aid each full moon. He doesn’t need to worry about that now. They’ve probably killed themselves – and hasn’t there been a spate of that in the years since the Second War. Hermione laughs at something and Harry quirks an eyebrow. He hasn’t said anything funny. Not for a while.  
  
“It’s just that… well, I never thought I’d be rooting for Rita Skeeter. Glad I put off telling the Ministry she was an unregistered Animagus.”  
  
Skeeter sends out news bulletins through the _Quibbler_ detailing witches and wizards who have been caught; killed; sent back after Absolution with no way of earning a living. Harry remembers Remus; remembers how threadbare his clothes were and how only Dumbledore had taken pity on him. There has been a distressing trend recently of people going straight from the mandatory ‘treatment’ to St. Mungo’s. Harry doesn’t know what they do to them there, and he doesn’t want to.  
  
It’s a mysterious thing, ‘Absolution’. Those who have gone through it come back _changed_. Some say it isn’t so bad. Harry doesn’t care. He will never again let someone else in his head. There’s been too much of that in his life. The Ministry claims to help werewolves like him. He’s had enough of their ‘help’ as well.  
  
Skeeter was bitten by an ex-Quidditch player with a vendetta. Harry likes to think it’s made her a better person.  
  
“Yeah,” he says to Hermione. When even Skeeter is one of the ‘good guys’, Harry thinks, you know things are bad. He lets his head fall onto Hermione’s shoulder and she pats his shoulder in a not-really-reassuring manner. It helps Harry anyway, just knowing she’s there.  
  
\+ + +  
  
 _“They shot him with a Muggle gun.”  
  
“Nah, they Silvered ‘im, didn’t they? With ‘Ministry-Approved Humane Equipment’. You’re too sensitive, Malfoy. Ferals are animals, and they’d sooner rip your arm off than come willingly.”_  
  
Draco is sure that things aren’t supposed to be like this. He’s had to kill werewolves now – not much choice when they’re leaping at you from scant metres away – but he's always managed to convince himself that it was necessary. What else was he supposed to do? Let them bite him; make him one of the hunted? Draco doesn’t like beasts. He doesn’t like Mudbloods or halfbloods or blood traitors. But he doesn’t want them _dead_. Wasn’t that always the way of things? When did he forget Dumbledore?  
  
This... This he cannot rationalise. This is a young boy, no more than five, with a hole in his skull from a silver bullet.  
  
And Draco is the only one who does not think this right.  
  
The urge to find Potter has been building since he joined the team officially. But now he must. Now more than ever.  
  
\+ + +  
  
It – Potter – it didn’t attack him. Draco’s shaking fingers card through the wolf’s fur as it lies upon him, breathing deeply. Every now and again, with increasing frequency towards morning, it whimpers and Draco soothes it. When it – _he_ – turns back, Draco’s hands migrate to Potter’s head and weave themselves through the surprisingly soft hair there. He only removes himself from Potter’s embrace when he notices him shivering despite Draco’s body heat. Draco wishes that he was enough as he goes to retrieve Potter’s cloak.  
  
\+ + +  
  


> **MINISTRY FILES**
> 
> Confirmed Werewolves
> 
> _Werewolf #42:_  
>  Name: Potter, Harry  
> Gender: Male  
> Date of Birth: 31.07.80  
> Place of Birth: Godric’s Hollow  
> Height: 5’10”  
> Weight: 10st 8lbs  
> Eyes: Green  
> Hair: Black  
> Distinguishing Marks: Lightning bolt scar  
> Last Known Address: 12 Grimmauld Place  
> Last Seen: Knockturn Alley (possibly purchasing Wolfsbane from a Ministry-Unapproved source)…
> 
> **FERAL**

  
  
\+ + +  
  
When they Apparate to Malfoy Manor, Draco shows Potter to a bathroom. Their eyes avoid one another. The intimacy of the night dissipates in the cruel light of day. Potter is still a fugitive and Draco knows he distrusts him. Draco represents everything he has been running from. Instead of engaging Potter, whose narrowed, wary eyes track his every move from the bathtub, Draco lays out clothes. Potter is sunk low in the water, but Draco can still see the mangled canvas of his chest. Draco has his own set of scars but they are nothing compared to this.  
  
Draco leaves the room and is a little chilled when he enters his large bedroom. He calls for a house-elf and tries not to think of how much weight Potter has lost since he was an Auror in his prime. It seems like decades ago. How long has Potter been on the run for now? Three years? He thinks of the scummy waves radiating outwards from Potter’s body and the obvious delight he took in sitting in the warm water. Draco hasn’t had many occasions to feel simple guilt in his life. Most were due to colossal fuck-ups he’d made – Voldemort, poison, cursed objects, cabinets, Dumbledore. He hadn’t even done anything to Potter. Potter had been the stupid one who jumped in front of a slavering hound. That wasn’t Draco’s fault.  
  
\+ + +  
  


> _Summary of Minutes of Departmental Meeting #63_
> 
> The number of werewolves continues to decrease month by month. The promise of benefits for those who turn themselves in has increased the numbers of parents giving up themselves or their children. Unregulated Wolfsbane is still an issue. Werewolves who are avoiding contact are purchasing from Ministry-Unapproved sources in order to avoid registration.
> 
> Proposals: Meet w/ Dept. Myst. to discuss cure options/modified Wlfsb.  
> Reduce unregulated sources of Wlfsb.  
> Continue to reduce # feral inf.  
> Locate (Unknown), especially [REDACTED]  
> Next meeting to be held:  
> …

  
  
\+ + +  
  
It takes three full moons for Potter to stay in his arms when he wakes.  
  
Draco knows he is trying his luck each time he remains in the room with Potter the wolf, who seems to have taken a shine to him. But he reasons that if he dies, at least Potter will be comfortable on the grounds of the warded Manor. His parents haven’t been back to England in years and he doubts they will ever set foot on these shores again. It annoys him, their cowardice. Don’t they know that the public has no time for Death Eaters and their ilk any more? Werewolves are the Boggart _du jour_.  
  
Potter’s eyes flutter open and Draco is unnerved by the look Potter gives him.  
  
“Potter?” he asks, nervously. He receives a low rumbling growl in response. Draco is confused. He looks through the window; it is fast approaching daytime. Faintly, he can still see the outline of the full moon in the sky. It must be affecting Potter in some strange way. Draco doesn’t have time to think of the mechanics of it as Potter is nuzzling his neck and rational thought is beginning to fly from his mind.  
  
Potter’s mouth is always dry after his transformations – the first thing he asks for is his glasses, the second a glass of water. But Draco would never know that from the way Potter acts now. Potter’s mouth is lightly pressed against Draco’s collarbone, just on that bit he likes… Potter’s mouth moves suddenly and he is swiping his tongue along the underside of Draco’s jaw, biting him slightly as he reaches Draco’s pointy chin. He locks his teeth gently on Draco’s throat and Draco knows that Potter can feel Draco’s rapid heartbeat pulsing in his mouth. Draco stretches his neck. More for Potter to claim; more for Potter to _own_.  
  
Potter’s hands enter the equation. They palm roughly over Draco’s chest, shoulder and arms while Potter rubs himself all over him. Draco wonders who he is scenting, Draco or himself. His arm is lifted and Potter nuzzles into his armpit, whimpering and panting. Draco flushes and he is not sure whether it is because he finds the display embarrassing or because he doesn’t.  
  
Potter stills and lies on top of him: chest to chest, abdomen to abdomen, crotch to crotch. He tangles their legs together so Draco couldn’t extricate himself even if he wanted to. He doesn’t. Potter raises himself slightly and stares Draco deeply in the eyes. His expression is ambiguous but Draco knows he is being challenged and flips them over without disrupting their position. He is surprised that the wolf is allowing him to do this.  
  
Draco is not a wolf. He has no desire to mark Potter or to make him smell like Draco. He does want to claim him, though. He wants Potter to know that they’re indebted to each other now; their fates are entwined. Draco doesn’t have the words to say this. He moves down the soft cotton sheets and braces his hands on Potter’s hips. The jut of bone feels as if it will leave bruises. He takes Potter’s cock in his mouth and holds it there. Potter lets out an almighty snarl but Draco isn’t scared.  
  
He slowly slides his head down until his nose and chin are tickled by hair; the glans of Potter’s cock bumps the back of his throat and his breath catches a little. Draco looks up Potter’s scarred stomach and laves his tongue along the underside of Potter’s shaft. Some of the build-up of saliva in Draco’s mouth escapes and runs in a thin line down Potter’s leg. Draco swallows and Potter groans.  
  
“Fuck,” Potter breathes. Draco starts. When did Potter transition fully from the wolf back to himself? He thinks to ask this question but realises he knows better. Instead, he raises himself up slightly with one hand pressing into Potter's thigh and the other reaching up slightly blindly. Potter grasps his hand and links their fingers together.  
  
He comes without warning some minutes later, or maybe Draco was too engrossed in his task to notice the signs. His breathing is harsh as he pants – dog-like – and pulls Draco up by their joined hands.  
  
“You smell so good, Malfoy. You smell like _me_ ,” Potter says, kissing him breathlessly. Draco isn’t disgusted, although he wishes Potter would use more of his lips and less of his tongue and teeth. Such is the nature of the beast.   
  
\+ + +  
  


> **WANTED: DRACO MALFOY**  
>  FOR: AIDING AND ABETTING A FUGITIVE
> 
> CONTACT MINISTRY OF MAGIC WITH INFORMATION  
> INFORMANTS REMUNERATED GENEROUSLY

  
  
\+ + +  
  
They are standing on the top of a cliff, far away from normal civilisation. They are waiting. Potter is holding a chipped teacup, turning it over and over in his hands. Draco says nothing. He wants Potter to make the first – last? – move.  
  
“Malfoy? Thanks,” Potter says finally. He looks as if he might have more to get off his chest, but there isn’t the time. This is the only opportunity Potter will have to escape Britain and reunite with his werewolf godson and the child’s grandmother.  
  
“I promised I’d save you, didn’t I?”   
  
Potter grins, and it is what Draco has been waiting for his whole life, though he doesn't realise until this moment. His face contorts slightly as the Portkey whisks him away, but his eyes hold Draco’s until he is gone.  
  
Moments later, Draco hears the sound of Apparition behind him and that woman’s voice he’d know anywhere. It doesn’t matter what they do to him. Draco has money and influence enough to buy himself out of tricky situations.  
  
In his mind’s eye, as his arms are bound behind his back, Draco sees sun and sea and sand. And for once in his wretched life, he knows he is on the right side at the right time doing the right thing.  
  
\+ + +  
  


> Werewolf Registry  
> (Last updated 14.08.05) _approx. 71 infected: Feral (F) 6 (Unknown). 131 (D). 139 (S)._


End file.
